


Steamed Hams But It's Count Olaf & Mr. Poe

by snakesandsugar



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket, The Simpsons
Genre: ASOUE - Freeform, Gen, Other, Steamed Hams, The Simpsons - Freeform, seriously Mr Poe you are just incompetent enough to fall for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 06:09:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14847257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snakesandsugar/pseuds/snakesandsugar
Summary: Time to really, really, really run a joke into the ground - a phrase which here means, "take a meme that basically nobody is even referencing anymore and combine it with a franchise and fandom that's still relatively small", for nothing but my own personal amusement.





	Steamed Hams But It's Count Olaf & Mr. Poe

The Counterfeit Chef

 

\--

 

 

There are those that say fire is cleansing. To the best of my knowledge, Count Olaf was a man not known for his mastery of hygiene, so it is probable that was not the reason he started so many fires during his lifetime. We may in fact never know why he started fires, how many fires he started, or which were started by him to begin with, but I have compiled herein the account of one fire Count Olaf started and was obligated to - a word meaning 'basically had to' - stick around for longer than he would have liked. To my great disappointment, I am unable to find specifics on Count Olaf's location when these events took place, but I do know that they took place in a city close enough to ours that Arthur Poe, Vice-President in Charge of Orphan Affairs at Mulctuary Money Management, was present for at least some of the events recorded. The following is a transcript of the events taking place when Count Olaf broke into a house he did not own and started a fire he was not asked to. In keeping with the editorial practices established by the Daily Punctilio, I have clarified, vaguened, exaggerated, and underplayed aspects of the story so as to provide the most titillating version of the truth I can. As far as I can gather, this story began with Mr. Poe arriving at the house Count Olaf had invaded.

 

Mr. Poe: Gracious, what confusing directions. I'm not even sure I'm at the right house.

 

Here I am told that Mr. Poe knocked on the door. Inside, Count Olaf made a hasty disguise with a chef's hat and apron from the kitchen (where his fire was starting) and opened the door to greet him.

 

Count Olaf: Ah, hello-a there-a! I am Chef...Focaulnot, I live legally in this house and also legitimately a-own it! How can I a-help you?

Mr. Poe: Now I'm certain I have the wrong house. But being lost in this neighborhood has made me quite famished - I'm very glad to have met a chef. (coughs) My name is Arthur Poe. I’m with Mulctuary Money Ma-

"Focaulnot": Yes, I know-a! I was just a-cooking an old family recipe to be eaten alone and far away from my a-house, I was just a-leaving!

Mr. Poe: That sounds wonderful. May I join you?

 

At this point Count Olaf is said to have spotted a police car passing through the neighborhood over Mr. Poe's shoulder as the banker began to cough again. I have been informed that the police car was driven by an Officer Mitchum, who when reached out for comment via email responded with a sequence of emoji I have not been able to replicate on any typewriter. A piece of information more useful is that, as a man with a strong fear of law enforcement and a curiosity to explore the new 'character' he had just invented, Count Olaf found it more prudent to invite Arthur Poe into the house he was pretending to own in the hopes that Mr. Poe's interest would wane before his own fraudulent accent did. Guiding Mr. Poe into the dining room, Count Olaf (henceforth "Focaulnot" for vagueness/clarity’s sake) sequestered himself in the kitchen.

 

Focaulnot: Every time that blasted banker shows up it's as inconvenient as it is unwanted! Still, that oven fire should burn slowly enough for me to confuse him into staying in the house until it's too late. I'll just have to-

 

Here, Mr. Poe opened the kitchen door just as Chef Focaulnot was opening the oven door to check the progress of his fire. He closed the oven door as quickly as he could, but not before a plume of black smoke escaped.

 

Mr. Poe: Chef, I was wondering if I could see a menu before I - goodness! (cough) Why is there smoke coming out of that oven?

Focaulnot: (in a normal voice) Why would a home have a menu - (in his fake accent) oh, a-no-a! That's-a not smoke, that's-a the, how you say, the steam-a? From-a the steamed clams I'm-a serve you!

Mr. Poe: Well, that sounds delightful! I ought to ask, though, are these steamed clams kosher?

Focaulnot: (smiling) A-yes, of course-a they are!

 

According to my research, Mr. Poe was content not to question Chef Focaulnot further and to return to the dining room, at which point the Chef used the kitchen telephone (apparently a device for phoning others from within one’s kitchen, not for communicating with food from a distance) to demand one of his henchman sneak to the house and meet him by a back door with some food from the Anxious Clown restaurant chain. After being handed a bag of hamburgers by a man with hooks for hands, Chef Focaulnot tossed the food onto a tray and returned to Mr. Poe in the dining room.

 

Focaulnot: Mr. a-Poe! I hope-a you ready for mouth-a-watering hamburgers!

Mr. Poe: Those sound wonderful! But - I’m sorry, I thought you said we were having steamed clams.

Focaulnot: A-no-a, I said we were having-a steamed hams!

Mr. Poe: I must have misread you. (lengthy coughing) You call hamburgers “steamed hams”?

Focaulnot: A-yes. It’s-a how we say in-a my very convincing-a accent.

Mr. Poe: How fascinating, what region is your accent from?

Focaulnot: Uhh… this-a region?

Mr. Poe: Really? Well, I'm from this part of the world as well, and I've never heard anyone use the phrase "steamed hams."

Focaulnot: Oh, not in this-a city, no. It’s an-a expression from a-different city.

Mr. Poe: I see. You know, it’s funny. These hamburgers are oddly similar to the ones they serve at the Anxious Clown.

Focaulnot: A-no-a, these are an-a old a-family recipe!

Mr. Poe: For steamed hams?

Focaulnot: Yes.

Mr. Poe: And you call them steamed hams despite the fact they’re grilled?

Focaulnot: Ye- …the-a, thing you-a forget is that-a… I need-a to get back-a to the kitchen. I think I left-a an excuse in the microwave.

Mr. Poe: Of course! I’ll wait right here.

 

What followed, to the best of my knowledge, was a hasty conversation with Chef Focaulnot’s hook-handed associate. Testimony I was handed by an anonymous source while investigating an abandoned elevator shaft with my brother seems to show that at this point, the fire in the kitchen became so great that Chef Focaulnot and his henchman decided to vacate the premises. Chef Focaulnot planned to exit through the front door, where the fire had not yet reached, but was forced to pass through the dining room - and therefore past Mr. Poe - to do so.

 

Focaulnot: Oh-a my goodness, I am-a so tired. I’m-a going to a-leave the house now and buy a new a-bed!

Mr. Poe: Yes, I should be going as well. I really do think I must have the wrong house. But thank you for - good lord, where is all that smoke and flame coming from?

Focaulnot: Oh, that’s-a just, the, uh… Aurora borealis?

Mr. Poe: An aurora borealis!? At this time of year, at this time of day, in this part of the country, localized entirely within your kitchen!?

Focaulnot: A-yes!

Mr. Poe: May I see it?

Focaulnot: …A-no-a.

 

Here, Chef Focaulnot left the house. Mr. Poe, disappointed at missing a chance to see the aurora borealis for himself, followed. Chef Focaulnot’s frustration at having been thwarted was, I imagine, only outweighed by his excitement at having discovered a new and somewhat convincing character to embody. The remaining piece of the story to be told is as follows:

 

Hook-Handed Man: (from inside) Boss, the house is on fire!

Focaulnot: (to Mr. Poe) That’s-a my mama. She’s-a very sick. (to his henchman) A-no, mama—it's just-a the northern lights!

Mr. Poe: (putting on his hat) Well, Mr. Focaulnot, you are an odd fellow, but I must say... you steam a good ham. (cough)

 

At this point, my record ends. I have yet to determine where these events took place, why Mr. Poe was in that part of town, what Count Olaf wanted in that house, or why an Anxious Clown restaurant would be across the street from an otherwise quiet residential area. By the time the official fire department arrived to put the fire out, Count Olaf had fled the scene and Mr. Poe was occupying himself knocking on doors to ask directions. I still have not managed to determine if, in fact, steamed clams are kosher.


End file.
